


Between Wind and Water

by OwlOfDeath



Series: Beyond Sand and Sea [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Battle Scenes, Blood and Violence, Character Development, Fantasy, Guilt, Killing, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Mages, Magic, Original Character(s), Physical Abuse, Pining, Pirates, Shyness, Suspense, Vulpera/Human Relationship, vulpera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlOfDeath/pseuds/OwlOfDeath
Summary: As Jona's magic grows more reliable things worsen elsewhere. Ever since he has been forced to work more with the crew again Hashin has turned a cold shoulder to him, leaving him feeling alone and upset. But there is even more pressing trouble waiting on the horizon.
Series: Beyond Sand and Sea [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792156
Comments: 9
Kudos: 2





	Between Wind and Water

**Author's Note:**

> The continuation of [Some Kind of Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787780).

Seabirds squawked and circled the ship, riding the same swift winds that made the sails flap and bulge. They were out on open water, but not many days from land.

"Hold it steady!" the first mate called where he stood overseeing the whole operation. Not that there was any need to say it, unlike the pulley system they usually used to lift things from the cargo hold Jona's spell was much less susceptible to the wind. But old habits die hard. "Easy does it!" 

His shoulders and neck were aching like crazy, not from the weight of the barrel or any physical strain but from tension, winding up his muscles as effectively as any heavy lifting. He had to stay fully focused, alert, _in control_. But then he was also lifting something that he in reality would hardly be able to budge if he tried to use his body to do it. 

At first the captain had insisted they at least tie a safety rope around it and have men ready to catch it if it should fall, but after a while they got too comfortable to bother, each attempt using less and less safety measures. It seemed that even if he should drop something it was still less likely to hurt someone than the old pulley system, which had a tendency to catch both hair and fingers and clothes in its grip and cause horrendous damage with a bit of bad luck and poor judgment. There had even been a deadly accident not long after Jona first arrived on the ship. One of the sailors got tangled in one of the ropes and they lost control of the crate they were lifting. It was flung sideways and hit him hard, sent him flying across the deck, his skull cracked open. One of Jona's first duties had been to care for him in sickbay, but he never woke up again, though it took him well over a week to die. 

None of the sailors seemed to mind leaving the pulley to gather dust; after all it was one less weight on their shoulders. But there was still one problem with it: if something went wrong they'd have no one to blame but him. 

The spell was like a frantic chant in his mind as he lowered the barrel to the deck, barely making a sound as it gently touched down. He wasn't so much holding it up as he was letting it fall down very slowly. As soon he could relax he let his arms drop to his sides, exhaling slowly as the blood suddenly seemed to rush back into his hands. 

He still needed to use gestures to successfully execute the spell, sometimes his whole body would be engaged to the point where he'd even raise his tail when he was trying to pull off something especially tricky. It frustrated Hashin to no end, and at first he had insisted that he'd learn to do it without moving. Jona waving his arms around didn't actually do anything; it was just pointless theatrics and a crutch of the mind he shouldn't get too attached to. But when the captain was content with the results the lessons suddenly stopped, and Hashin dropped trying to further polish his student to perfection. The core of the training was done, and it would have to do.

There had been another storm during the night and some rope had snapped, sending several barrels and crates tumbling. So now they had to check the condition of the entire cargo. They had to make sure the food and fresh water stores were untainted by bilge water or rats and the gunpowder and other sensitive materials were well sealed tight and without damp. A single crack in a barrel could ruin it, and without supplies mutiny was never far away. The sailor who had been responsible for securing the cargo after they left port had received an educational flogging for his negligence, the back of his legs criss-crossed with angry, red stripes. Jona was just glad it wasn't him.

"That's the last of them! Finny, McKenzie, let's get to work. The rest of you back to your stations! We'll be putting things back in order as soon as we're all clear!" The first mate hopped down from his perch and gathered the men to him, pointedly ignoring Jona who was used to it by now.

The slap he received to the back of his head was hard enough to make him stumble forward a step, but he probably wouldn't have if he had seen it coming and braced himself. "You're in my way, Mouse!" the kul tiran snapped gruffly, pushing past even though there was a perfectly empty space right next to him. Johnson had always been a bit of a bastard. Jona mumbled an apology and slipped off to the side, putting his back against the sun-warm planks of the cabin. 

_Putting it back in order. Same thing but in reverse, huh._

He fished a cigarette from his rolled-up sleeve, followed by a row of match sticks which he struck against the rough wood. He leaned his head back, sucking on his smoke as if it could provide him with the rest, nourishment and mental fortitude needed to handle another round. 

On the opposite upper deck Hashin and Captain Forester were half sitting on the railing, engaged in some lively conversation. The captain said something and nudged him with his shoulder, pointing off to one side, and Hashin turned to look with a laugh. He could hear the clear sound of it from all the way over there, over the noise of the sailors and the sails, even if he couldn't pick up a word they were saying. He had that kind of laugher; it carried. The wind caught Hashin's hair and blew it across his face, exposing his pale jaw and throat. He had this spot there if you followed his jaw line, right where it curved towards his ear, where his fingers fitted just perfectly. Jona pulled his shoulders up higher, forcing himself to look away, to stop glowering; to not be so painfully obvious.

Since he had gotten better at the spell he had started to work more with the rest of the crew again. At first it had been a trial run, proving to the captain that he was capable, and that the gamble of letting Hashin teach him had paid off. But when Captain Forester was satisfied it was working out Jona had been promptly reinstated with the rest of the sailors. More than a cabin boy, less than a seaman, his role was largely undefined, and his place on the ship more confusing than ever. He no longer stayed in the cabin with Hashin, and for the most part the mage ignored him; except when he didn't, which was almost worse.

He had his eyes trained on the floor in a thousand mile stare, looking but not really seeing as he avoided gazing out across the water all around them, as usual. The sea was just too vast, and not just the expanse reaching towards the horizon in every direction, but even more so the depths below. He couldn't swim, for one, but it also reminded him too much of where he was, and where he couldn't go. 

Jona lifted his gaze as a shadow suddenly appeared across the planks in front of him, his mind going from empty to overflowing. 

"Got a light?" Hashin asked bluntly, one eyebrow lightly arched, the cigarette unlit in the corner of his mouth. He hadn't even noticed him walk up.

"I'm all out," he muttered. A white lie. He was trying to keep the fatigue and resentment out of his voice, and the chagrin from showing on his face. He was still upset.

"Tsk," he chided softly, "come here then." Hashin leaned in, his proximity pushing Jona further against the wall. His eyes were lowered as he watched what he was doing, lighting the cigarette on his. He had to bend down low to reach, and Jona didn't lift his head to make it any easier. It was a small and petty gesture, but it forced Hashin to come in even closer. He watches his eyelashes, thinking how long they were, as he resisted the impulse to inhale his scent. He wanted to kiss him. Thought more than that he wanted to be kissed _by_ him. It had only been a couple of weeks, the wound was still fresh. 

When Hashin finally raised his gaze the wide smile turned his eyes into dark slits, the glow between the two cigarettes making them smolder. "Thanks Mouse," he said and straightened up, a hint of amusement in his voice. He still wore that ridiculously attractive smile as he turned and walked away, leaving Jona there to watch him leave while blowing tendrils of smoke out through his nostrils, a fist clenched around his heart. _Bastard_.

\- - -

It was nearing twilight when the bell rang out with distressing persistence, the jarring metallic clanking jerking him violently from his restless sleep. He knew he had been reading but had no recollection of even closing his eyes. The sudden alarm made him sit up to attention before even his eyes were pried open, confused. He still felt worn thin, like greasy paper. Too warm and with his head thick with wool and needles as he slowly started to assemble his mind. 

The bell was normally used to tell the sailor's when the shifts were changing, or when the food was being served, but this insane ringing didn't sound anything like those pre-determined chimes. Above and around him the sound of bare feet running came into focus, and then several loud voices joined in.

"Man the cannons!" 

"They're closing in!"

"Turn her gently starboard, keep the wind in her sails!"

In an instant he was wide awake. They were under attack. There was going to be fighting. What should he do? There was nowhere to run to. He could hide, but if they were boarded and lost, or sank, there was not a nook or cranny on the entire ship that could keep him safe. 

Jona rushed out to the deck, finding it in some kind of organized chaos. People were running everywhere, pulling on ropes and climbing the rigging like gravity didn't apply to them. Everyone seemed to have a task that needed to be done, and there, already close enough for their banners to be easily distinguishable, was the other ship. He thought he vaguely recognized them.

"What's going on?!" he called out to one of the nearby sailors who were securing some of the rigging, his hands working so nimbly he could probably do it in his sleep. He turned around, wiping sun bleached hair from a suntanned forehead.

"Oi, Mouse! Where the hell've ya been? We've been spotted by a damn Alliance patrol ship, and since we can't outrun her, and they ain't letting us leave, we've got to meet them head on! You should find the first mate; he's been askin' for ya!" 

Jona didn't know whether he should laugh or cry. In spite of everything the Alliance had done against his family he had still, on some desperate level, hoped even for them to save him. The Alliance navy, they were the people patrolling these waters to keep them safe from pirates. Pirates like him. It didn't matter if he wanted to be saved by them, his side had already been chosen for him. From the stories he'd heard the Alliance rarely took prisoners when dealing with pirates. They probably wouldn't stop to ask him if he wanted to leave with them, if he was there by his own free will. His only decent chances at survival was for the Bloody Queen to surrender, which was about as likely as him sprouting wings, or for them to win. He felt frozen in place, at a loss of what to do.

That's when the first shot was fired, a distant rumble that turned into a splash way too close for comfort. Still out of range they were probably showing their intentions: give up now or fight for your lives. The battle wasn't just a threat anymore, it was reality, and it was happening _right now_.

"There you are!" a voice growled behind him, but before he could turn a fist clamped down around his long ear, yanking him up nearly off the floorboards. Jona yelped in surprise and pain, pawing feebly at the grip. It felt like his ear was going to tear right off. "Listen to me you little shit!" The first mate snarled, hauling the slight vulpera up higher to face him. It was lucky he wasn't a tall man. His features were twisted with anger and determination. 

"The captain gave Clearwell permission to waste his time teaching you that fancy sorcery, so use it! Don't make me regret letting you live this long." He said the last words slowly, deliberately, staring Jona down before he let him drop. He almost fell to his hands and knees when he landed but somehow managed to catch himself. Maybe he had found his sea-legs, after all. The pain in his ear brought tears to his eyes, but the first mate had already stomped off, at least sparing him that added humiliation.

A second salvo of cannon fire echoed across the water. They were so close now, pulling up to get their full row of cannons facing the Bloody Queen who had somehow expertly maneuvered herself out of the risk of taking raking fire. They had cannons of their own and now both ships were in range of taking real damage. Any minute now the boarding would begin. He couldn't see Hashin anywhere.

Jona slipped back towards the side of the stairs leading to the aft upper deck, trying to make himself small, insignificant. The entire ship shuddered as she fired her cannons, one at a time in a long row of echoing thunder. The smoke from the gunpowder was already starting to rise and accumulate on the deck, the wind not powerful enough to clear it. Through the haze he could see the shapes of sailors, pirates, lining up to meet the onslaught of boarders as the other ship loomed past. This time some of their cannons hit the hull of the ship, the Bloody Queen rocking in the water, sending up spray as the wood exploded. Screams could be heard from below as the spall of the shattered hull shredded through the crew there, but the damage was still well above the water level.

"Here they come!" someone cried from within the smoke, but Jona couldn't move. He didn't want to die. If he died here his family would likely never know. Like his brother he would simply disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. 

The ships separated and the Bloody Queen let loose her cannons again, timbres trembling witch each shot fired, tying to put the other ship under raking fire as they turned. The brief brush the ships were alongside each other had been enough, and fighting had already erupted on the deck. To stay alive he needed them to win. If there was something, anything he could do, he should do it. Right?

Men were crying out and weapons were clashing around him, blood spilling onto the deck as men started to fall. But the pirates were winning; theirs numbers clearly outmuscling the few Alliance sailors who had made the first jump across. The fighting calmed as the pirates beat back that first wave, herding them towards the edge of the ship or cutting them down. But the skirmish wasn't over.

The Alliance ship had taken some damage, but nothing that hampered her in the water. She was still swift and nimble and her cannons kept firing as she turned with the breeze, having gotten a better position as they were upwind to the Bloody Queen, free to attack or defend. A glancing blow nevertheless grazed the vessel's topside as they turned, splinters flying and splashing into the water. 

He wasn't killing anyone, they were sailors; they could swim. Someone would rescue them. The ship was right there. With a sudden rush of thoughtless action, seeing opportunity present itself when one of the remaining sailors made a mad dash towards the back of a pirate, Jona reached out with his hands. As the ship came past for a second round he forced the man over the side. He simply _pushed_ with everything he had, and it seemed to work as the man was nudged past the edge. The ships touched, wood creaking and groaning as the sides collided, and the man let out a wild scream as he was caught and crushed between them. Jona's blood froze in his veins.

_That's not my fault. Not my fault, not my fault, not my—_

A deafening blast like a violent thunderclap brought him back to the here and now, so loud he could almost feel the shockwave wash past him, reverberating through his fur. In the next instant the twilight sky lit up, everything bathing in the orange glow of flames as they enveloped the sails and masts of the Alliance ship, quickly spreading. 

That's when he spotted Hashin. The mage was standing on the upper deck at the bow of the ship, arms spread out before him with palms facing each other, as if holding something invisible between them. The air around him was shimmering with colour like the heat rising from desert sand, ethereal patterns and shapes moving in that mysterious distortion, just barely visible, only to be gone the next time he blinked. Jona stared in awe, slowly processing what had just happened as he watched Hashin rub his eyes with thumb and forefinger, turning with a slight frown towards Captain Forester.

A loud cheer went up from the pirates and orders were repeated by the helmsman as relayed by the captain. The Bloody Queen broke away from the other ship immediately, lurching in the water, fleeing the licking flames and the embers hopping likes fleas and floating on the wind. It didn't take long for the Alliance vessel to be fully engulfed in the intense inferno. The main mast tilted and then fell with a deep groan rather than a crash, bringing the other masts, rigging and sails down with it. The ship was already leaning threateningly as men jumped overboard to escape the fire. It creaked as the timbers warped and cracked under the pressure of being torn apart, slowly sinking beneath the waves. 

Those who managed to swim close enough to the pirate ship were hauled onboard and either captured, or if they struggled, cut down where they stood. The same was true for those who had survived the scuffle on board the ship, but all in all few had survived. The Bloody Queen had some casualties of her own, but not nearly as many. The ship was damaged, heeling to one side in the water, but not so badly they couldn't sail.

Meanwhile along the west horizon dark storm clouds were gathering, billowing like thick black smoke towards the star speckled sky with a promise of disaster.


End file.
